


Caught Red Handed

by Wholesomereader



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Families of Choice, Hospitalization, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Violence, Other, Rated For Violence, Running Away, dw no one stole this lol, like blink and you miss it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholesomereader/pseuds/Wholesomereader
Summary: Virgil doesn't like his dad, runs away, and 'accidentally' steals from a local bakery.Then, the owner of said bakery hires him.He's in so much shit.(cross posted from Tumblr! Before the purge!)





	1. Chapter 1

The hot summer day beat down onto Virgil’s back as he walks down the somewhat busy street. It was mid afternoon, and wearing a hoodie wasn’t a good idea. The fact that it was a darker colored hoodie wasn’t helping with the heat. Every step hurt, his feet covered in blisters because of how much he’s walked in the past few weeks. The only reason he kept going was because of a park that was only a few blocks away. **  
**

It had a small wooded section that no one went off the trail of, and when Virgil did he found himself a tree with a space in between the roots that was just big enough and cool enough for him sleep in. In the park itself it had a small water fountain and some bad bathrooms. It was enough for him.

He had gone away from his tree when his meager food rations had ran out, and he needed to scavenge around for any scraps of food in the trash cans again. He had intended to go to the employees of some fast food restaurants before they got busy to ask if they had thrown away any buns and to ask for some water. But the usual employees who were kind enough to let him take what he needs were off today, and he kept searching, desperate for food. Running off of a few hours of sleep and only eating some stale bread wasn’t good for him.

So he walked. And walked. And walked.

He ignores other people by putting headphones in his ear when they give him strange looks, and finds himself staring into the window of a bakery. The reflection of it shows him a teenage boy, too lanky for his own good. His puff of purple hair was beginning to be bleached by the summer sun, and his eyebags had worsened over the weeks. His lips were chapped and split open, and every part of his being felt gross and greasy. There was only so much he could do in some public bathrooms.

A mother/daughter combo walks out of the bakery, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and the cool waves of AC go to him, and Virgil allows himself to glance at the various cupcakes in the window.

The teenager behind the counter glances at the far too skinny teenager staring at the food, and frowns. They meet eyes for a split second, and Virgil jumps. When he realizes that he’s looking him, he hurries along as the other boy follows him, worried and wanting to help.

When he calls out, “Hey, wait a sec!” Virgil hastens his pace, pretending to text on a phone. He can feel him staring from the back of his head, and his hoodie is up. He lets out a small pant, and takes a break, feeling dizzy for a second. He glances behind him to see the boy hurrying over, and he gets up, ignoring the way the world tilts for a second. He keeps walking, ignoring the way that he knows he’s still being followed.

Virgil ducks into a space between two buildings, crouching low behind some dumpsters. When he sees the boy pass by, a sigh of relief escapes him. The cool shade of the two buildings lets him think clearly for a second. The cashier boy was the only person he saw in the store.

So it’s empty.

He worries his lip. He’s hungry, and it will most likely be another week until he can ask for scraps. The thought of cookies and bread make his mouth water, and a small part of him craves the cool AC. He gets up, checking to make sure that boy isn’t following him anymore. He walks back, pushed by the thought of something other than stale buns and slightly expired apple packages.

A quick glance into the bakery when he gets there confirms that it really is empty. Virgil looks at the bakery name. “Prince Charming Confectioneries.” He smiles slightly at the name before he steps in.

The bell rings, and his heart pounds as he waits for someone to come out. His heart pounds and he looks around before spotting a plate of fresh cookies cooling on a plate on the counters. He grabs a plastic bag and starts to shove some of them in there, ignoring the way the dough hurts the tips of fingers. Another glance around and he grabs a few of staler cookies. One, two, and three enter his mouth at once. The burst of chocolate fills his mouth as he chews, and he gulps it down.

A glance around and he spots a fridge filled with drinks and cartons of milk. He walks over, spurred on by an overwhelming need to fill his stomach. Virgil grabs a water bottle and opens it, eagerly gulping down the cool, fresh water. His strength slowly returns to him, and he takes in another drink, going slower this time. A part of him knows that if he doesn’t slow down, the sugars in his stomach will make him sick.

“Typically,” Virgil jumps, flinching at the harsh and sudden sound of a voice. “You pay before you take something from a store.” He closes his eyes and turns to face the speaker.

Another teen his age, with black glasses and a dark blue polo shirts and a tie. The emblem on his shirt resembles the bakery, and Virgil’s heart beat speeds up. He studies the skinny teen and takes note of his ragged appearance.

“I’m assuming you’re not paying, however. So,” He takes a step forward, and Virgil’s face drains of any color. “Stay here while I go get-Hey!”

Virgil’s flight or fight reflexes kick in, and he drops the bottle before turning to run out of the door. He turns slightly and runs into someone, falling to the ground. He flinches once they stop tumbling down.

“Whoa, it’s you! I was wondering where ya went, kiddo.” A bright and happy voice says as a hand comes towards him.

Virgil flinches, expecting the pain to come. When it doesn’t, he looks up and his breath catches in his throat. He sees that it’s the same teen from earlier, a worried look on his face. He has the same glasses and a light blue shirt with the same bakery symbol on his chest.

A heartbeat.

He stumbles upward, and glances as the other bakery worker comes towards them, frowning. The bag of stolen cookies is a few feet, but that would mean going towards the strangers, and they might take him back, and he’s worked so hard to get here, to get away from them that…

His chest heaves, and someone takes a step towards him. It’s enough of a sudden movement that he turns on a dime to run again when a hand, strong yet gentle, grabs his upper arm. He flinches again and waits for the yelling and chaos.

“Hey,” A softer voice, gentle like the hand pulling him towards the other teen. “Don’t run, okay? We just want to talk.”

We just want to talk.

That’s how he almost got caught by the police, who almost brought him back. Back to his family, who abused him and ruined him and belittled him and hurt him and left marks and bruises on him-

Pleasepleasepleasedon’tsendmeback.

“Yes, talking would be good. I think an explanation would good, but preferably out of the heat, yes?” The other boy, the one who had caught him earlier steps forward, studying Virgil. There’s a frown on his face, and his brow is furrowed together like he was a complicated math problem that needed to be solved.

StopstopstopletmegoI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.

There’s a crushing weight on his chest, and his throat closes up. But the hand goes away, and there’s a look on both of their faces that Virgil recognizes. From the kind employees who gave him food, and from the people who’ve given him money. They had been in places like his before. They recognized themselves in him.

They won’t send him to the police. And they won’t hurt him.

He gulps down a breath after what seems like forever, and he nods.

A few minutes later, seated at a tiny round table in the back of the bakery. There’s a cup of water in front of him, and occasionally he sees the workers. Logan was the one who had scared him in the lobby earlier. Patton was the one who had been following him. It’s clear to him to see who’s the mind and who’s the heart.

From what Virgil can gather, their friend’s father owns the bakery, and they just work there. They would discuss what to do with him before the owner comes in, and Patton tells him not to worry about the mess he had made with the bottle of water.

It ends up just making him more guilty, and he takes a drink of water as Logan comes in, sitting in the chair opposite of him. He folds his hands and Virgil makes sure to keep his eyes focused on the tie. There’s a tense silence.

“We talked, and we decided that once Roman gets here, we’ll figure out what to do with you,” He flinches, and Logan clears his throat. “But I do have some questions for you.”

Pleasedon’tsendmeback.

“Where do you live?”

“Out of town,” He mumbles.

Pleasedon’tsendmeback.

“Okay,” Logan is clearly dissatisfied with the vague answer. “Why were you stealing?”

“I wanted some cookies.”

Please.

“What’s your name?” He’s trying to be cautious, and trying to make sure that Virgil doesn’t run again.

He doesn’t answer. After a few seconds of silence have passed, Logan pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Listen, we aren’t going to report you. I said we should just let you go, but Patton seems to be worried.”

Virgil hears him, but can’t comprehend what he’s saying. No one cares about him. Not even his own parents cared.

Evidently, after his stubbornness irritates Logan, he leaves. He comes back later with a fresh croissant with some cheese and ham melted inside. He places it front of him, and he practically inhales it once Logan goes back to the front to take care of some customers.

The sudden influx of food makes his stomach turn into knots, but Virgil holds it in the best he can by drinking copious amounts of water. He thinks about the last he had anything warm to eat, and vaguely recalls the half empty cup of coffee he had one morning, which had been left at the park. That was weeks ago.

He jumps when Patton sits down in front of him suddenly, fanning himself. His face is red and sweating slightly. “Hiya kiddo. Just takin’ a break from baking!” There’s some flour on his face that’s sticking, and Virgil almost smiles.

But then he sees the scrape that Patton has on his arm from running into him, and he immediately hunches over and looks at his neck instead.

Patton picks up on this, and sits up, smiling. “Hey, don’t worry about me! I’m more worried about you, and I think Logan is as well,” He adds thoughtfully. “I thought you were dyin’ of heatstroke out there with that big ole hoodie you have on.”

He moves his shoulders up slightly, in an attempt to show that he’s paying attention. Virgil doesn’t feel like explaining that even though it’s hot as Hades during the summer, the nighttime temperature drops by twenty degrees on average where they live. On top of that, it’s more likely to rain at night as well. So the hoodie provides protection. Both socially and against the weather.

He thinks on this, and then perks up suddenly, like a lightbulb had just turned on inside of him. He gets up excitedly and runs out of the room, leaving Virgil alone again with the sound of the AC and the smell of freshly baked bread.

Settling back into the chair, Virgil lets out a sigh. He was already feeling exhausted just from the walk outside, coupled with the fact that he was socially with people…it was too much for his anxiety. A heavy feeling flows through him, and his eyes slowly droop down.

 

* * *

 

A loud crash bangs through the bakery, and Virgil flinches awake, eyes wide. His heart pounds and he starts looking around, blinking away the scenery from his dream. He calms down once he realizes where he is, but a pang of guilt stabs him as he remembers why he’s there.

Another sound, and Virgil tries not to bolt as the sound reminds him of his home. Something or other was often being broken there.

Virgil steel his nerves as someone lets out a series of…not quite cuss words, but what he imagines to be something very rude to be called.

Another teen enters, wearing a red vest over his bakery shirt. The gold buttons shine in the harsh artificial light, and Virgil doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s a good half a foot taller than him, and the way his eyes seemingly glare holes into his head make him want to run.

Stopstaringatme.

Then the boy sighs. “Alright. Do you know how to bake?”

“Y…yes…?” Virgil is caught off guard by the question, staring into the boys face.

“That’s better than the last one,” He mumbles, but then smiles. “I guess you’re hired!”

Wait.

What?!

“I, um, I don’t, you, I, well, y-you, uh, you, you see, I’m not-” Virgil stutters, trying to form a coherent thought in his head. The word ‘hired’ bounces around, with a bakers dozen of questions too.

“I’m Roman Charms, and yes the name is a pun. It was Patton’s idea,” Roman grabs Virgil by the shoulders, making him flinch involuntarily, and moves him to where all of the ovens are. “I handle a majority of the business…things that go on here. Logan is the financial adviser and oversees our input and output, and Patton…is Patton. He handles the customers and bakes most of the time.”

“I-I’m not,” He tries to get out, but Roman keeps talking, explaining the business, how much Virgil will get paid (with money?! He thinks with a panic), his work hours, etc…etc…

Eventually he finds himself in an office, staring at Roman with widen eyes. There’s no way out of this. He needs Patton, or Logan, or anyone to explain to this overly…dramatic teen that he’s a thief, he just stole from this establishments business.

Dark tendrils take a hold of Virgil’s lungs, and they get tighter, and tighter as his chest starts to heave. His throat is closed shut, and he can’t breathe, please, he can’t breathe. The tendrils close around his lungs and his heart pounds in his ears.

Roman says his name, and Virgil doesn’t hear it. He think he hears it and looks up at him with fearful eyes. He startles at this, and immediately kneels in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his chest.

It’s…warm. He feels so cold. So cold, and he shivers.

Roman’s other hand guides Virgil’s hand to his own chest, and after a few deep breaths the tendrils are gone, and he can breathe again.

“Better, uh…” He glances at him, awaiting his name. He blinks a few times, his thoughts coming to him slow and sluggishly.

“Virgil,” He says quietly.

“Virgil. Like the Roman poet?” Logan suddenly appears, glancing at the two teens.

He shrugs again. If he’s being honest, he is 99.99% sure the hospital staff named him, because neither of his…

Well. That’s something different.

No use digging up old wounds.

“Roman, why is he in our office?” Logan asks coolly, masking his anger. Virgil glances down, waiting to be yelled at. It happens often, and it’s better than actually being arrested.

“I thought I was supposed to interview someone for some extra help in the shop,” Roman frowns, and Virgil drowns out their conversation. He’s waiting for them to dismiss him, but instead, Roman gently touches his shoulder.

“Did you hear us?”Logan asks, quite unsure of what to make of Virgil.

He shakes his head, getting up after realizing that he was on the floor. He dusts himself off, but it probably would have made no difference.

“We asked if you would like to work here. Those cookies you ate were for a customer who’s having a wedding, and we need a way to pay off the refund,” His voice isn’t unkind, just matter of fact. But it still hurts him when Logan states that he fucked up so clearly.

“Uh…sure? I’ll just…I won’t need pay,” He mutters, remembering the water bottle and dropped cookies. Of course he had eaten someone’s wedding cookies. Wedding. Cookies. Virgil was such a fool, an idiot and he should be glad that they’re being nice to him.

“Of course you’ll get paid, just a portion of it won’t…necessarily go to you,” Roman states carefully, a little shocked that someone would say that they wouldn’t need to be paid. Besides, they needed the help at the bakery.

“I…I, um, I just, I don’t,” Virgil tried to wrack his head for a coherent thought. “I don’t have a bank account.” He mumbles.

Roman and Logan exchange a glance. They were seemingly having a silent discussion before Logan sighed and turns back to him. “We’ll just pay you in cash at the end of every week.”

Virgil’s head swam. Getting paid every week? And possibly not…not being in such a bad position. He would be getting money. He could…he could do a lot. With money.

Yeah. Working here wouldn’t be so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets to know the people at the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still shorter than what I would have liked, honestly

Two weeks of working at Prince Charming Confectionaries, and Virgil was getting used to the work. He mostly swept and did inventory, but there was an off chance that he was alone in the shop from time to time when one of them couldn’t be there.

In a way, it was good for him. He got to know all of them individually over the two weeks. Logan was into poetry and solving any problems. For him, running a business was an ongoing problem. (His words, not Virgil’s). Patton was always smiling and cracking bad jokes, but it made all of them smile after dealing with a particularly rowdy customer. If anything, he was the heart of the operation. Then there was Roman.

He was…interesting. Which is the most polite way to describe him in Virgil’s eyes. He was technically the owner of the business, and did everything business related to running the bakery. So that meant that Roman wasn’t there often enough to actually interact with anyone, but he did stop by to talk to Patton or Logan.

Over time, Virgil was starting to like working at Prince Charming Confectionaries, but…the walks.

It was a half hour walk, and he was expected to start work at 7:30. On top of that, he had to look presentable and neat. So Virgil woke up at 6:00 o'clock to use the public bathrooms at the park he was staying at to tidy up the best he can. Once he was paid, he bought himself some deodorant and a comb. Once he was able to look at least semi-decent, he started the walk.

The walk was up a hill. It was at the start, and in the mornings, Virgil didn’t mind them as much because it wasn’t as hot as the afternoon was. But at the end of the day, when the sun was somehow still inflicting its vengeance onto the town, he had a slightly sunburned face and was overheating.

This didn’t account for the blisters that appeared on his feet overtime either. Each step hurt somehow. It was almost too bearable, but he managed to get up and walk, every day, to the bakery. It wasn’t like he hated working, per se, but…the walk made it unmanageable sometimes.

It was one of the days where Virgil was in the back, enjoying the heat. Patton allowed him to wear his hoodie when he was working inside, but he insisted on putting it away when he was working in the back. Something about safety hazards and cleanliness.

So he wore a shirt they had gotten him for specifically working there. It was black, with a white logo on it with a thundercloud. It somehow suited him, and Virgil was grateful for another article of clothing. Logan had explained to him how they all had their own variations of the characters they were wearing. Logan had some wizard dude, from an old Disney movie that made brooms come to life.

Patton’s were two cats, dancing and swinging to what Virgil assumed was a jazz beat. It was ironic, seeing as how the happy teen was severly allergic to cats.

And of course, Roman’s was Prince Charming. There…wasn’t really a needed explanation for that.

He liked working there. It wasn’t just the fact that he was homeless and he somehow had a stable job. But it was the fact that Patton and Logan and even Roman seemingly got the sense of how Virgil wanted his space. They didn’t unexpectedly come up behind him, and made sure that he could see where their hands were. They weren’t many random noises either, (as far as Virgil could tell) neither of them stomped as they walked. It was a relief, even when he found himself frozen because the bell dinged during a quiet day. Or when his hands shook so badly that it took him an extra fifteen minutes to stock the back.

But today, was a quiet day. It meant that it was rather slow, and there weren’t many people out due to the heat. But Virgil enjoyed the silence, and continued to unload from the delivery truck. His hands weren’t shaking, and he took it as a silent blessing that Patton was backed up on baking minicakes and decorating them.

For without his hoodie, his scars were right out in the open. Some from him, some not. A lot weren’t from him. A few were from cigarette burns as a child, or glass shards from a bottle being smashed near him. The scars that weren’t from his parents were obvious.

Virgil idly scratches at his arm, the vague feeling of a burn seeping through his memories. He pushes the thoughts away, feeling his anxiety grow. The bell dings, and he lets in a slow, deep breath before releasing it.

He walks inside, pulling his hoodie on before meeting a middle schooler and getting their order. They seem content to sit there and stay in the AC, and from the way the kids eyes were looking around the room and his hunched over figure, Virgil felt a twinge of empathy for him. He recognized from just himself.

His heart swells, overwhelmed with his own memories and thoughts of what the kid is going through. He makes sure that the kid isn’t looking, and that Patton is still in the back when he grabs him an extra brownie from the back of the store. It was a day old, and a little stale, but a little kindness went a long way. Virgil knew that much from experience.

Once the one customer of the day had left, Virgil silently paid for the old brownie. He didn’t feel guilty, necessarily, about giving it away, but he did feel the need to pay for it.

The day was slow, and the one customer was a mark of it. “This is some hot weather we’re having, huh?” Patton walks out into the lobby, away from the heat of the ovens. He looked too exhausted to make one joke about the heat, or a joke in general. They sit behind the counter for a while, watching the clock and watching as more people started walking outside. The temperatures were only comfortable enough to be in during the dusk or dawn. Either way, many people were miserable and tired after the heat had seemingly sucked the life out of them.

But Virgil watched with quiet wonder as each person passed by the window. Each were unique in some way, and with him doing this, he recognized some of the regular people who walked by. They didn’t step in, but they did pass by this particular bakery.

The ovens started to ring, and Patton gives him a look.

“…if you get them out of the oven for me I’ll pick you up and buy you coffee tomorrow morning.” He says, glancing at the ovens as they continued to yell at the two.

“Sure,” Virgil got up, since he was going to offer at some point anyways. The heat hits him like a blast, but it’s over quickly as he puts the sweets onto cooling racks for Roman or Patton to decorate later.

When he gets back out, he realizes that he’s closing up shop, doing the last minute chores for the lobby. Virgil takes in a deep breath, and starts on his.

Midway through sweeping, he stops dead.

Patton would be picking him up tomorrow. In the morning. In a car.

That meant Patton would need an address.

His heart began to speed up, but Virgil let in a breath. Four seconds. Hold. Seven seconds. Exhale. Eight seconds. He repeats until his heartbeat returns to normal, and starts to think. Tell him the truth? No, that would leave to more trouble than he wants. Maybe he could try and say, hey nevermind, I can’t? But then Patton’s heart would break.

No matter what he could try to come up with, there was always a downside to it. An image of the set of swings from his park flashes through his head.

He…could meet him at the park. Say that he goes on morning walks or something. After all, it…it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t the truth. A half truth was better than a full on lie.

“Hey,” Patton calls out to him, and Virgil can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll need your address to pick you up tomorrow!”

He turns around, half shrugging. “I go for walks in the morning. It helps get my blood pumping. So…can you pick me up at the park uptown?”

He blinks and his smile goes away, concern flashing through his eyes. But then his smile returns, and he nods. “Sure! Also, Roman and Logan both need to be dropped off somewhere. So it’ll be a ride!”

His anxiety picks up as Patton leaves, trusting him to pack up without stealing anything. Right. The others. They…they were nice. Logan was a little…pretentious, and Roman was…loud. Very loud. But he could handle them! And it would be nice to see them before he went to work anyways.

Once he makes that Patton is actually gone and hasn’t forgotten anything (like his keys, his wallet, his glasses) Virgil quickly changes in the backroom. He doesn’t want his one clean shirt to get dirty too quickly. He had discovered a small cubbyhole between the lockers, and no one noticed if he stuffed his shirt in there, as long as he made sure that nothing was poking out.

Once he’s dressed, he zips his hoodie up and glances at the sky. It’s pure blue, no clouds in site. The sun beats down relentlessly like it has for every other day, and a sigh escapes him.

It’s time to start walking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if I miss any tags let me know please

The morning was crisp and overcast. For a moment, it was cool and people were going about their day, trying to avoid the heat of the summer daytimes. The park was empty except for a few joggers trying to get ready for their routine. **  
**

Virgil could smell rain as he woke up, staring up at the sky. The glimpses of the dark grey clouds between the trees branches made it look like a painting. Distantly he recalls the list he had compiled last night. A tarp, a few blankets, and some socks. If he had money left over, bread and granola bars. It would be enough for a few weeks, hopefully.

He glances at the wrappers of food Patton sent him home with, insisting they needed to get rid of the stale stock either way. According to him, he didn’t like wasting food and would donate the rest to a shelter. That part made him happy, knowing that at least someone was actively donating to the one shelter in town. It was very Patton like. But it was a soothing thought.

Staggering to his feet, he sways slightly. Virgil sifts the air through his teeth, waiting for the spots dancing in his eyes to leave. His mouth is dry and his throat is parched. When he flicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, it feels like sandpaper grating on rocks. He knows he’s dehydrated, but he doesn’t exactly have the luxury of being inside a cool building with access to cold water. The fountains nearby were lukewarm at best, and the bathrooms…let’s just say he doesn’t want to drink anything from those faucets.

A part of him begs for the rain, wanting to relish in the water. On top of that, he wanted to feel clean. It had been weeks since his last shower, and splashing water onto himself from the bathrooms wasn’t doing it. His hair was greasy and limp, and his face was sunburnt at this point as well.

Another part of him knows that if it rains, he won’t have any way to stay dry. Pushing the thoughts away, Virgil moves towards the park. A part of him knows that he should tell everyone, but he’s also scared of what might happen.

Would Logan fire him? Would Roman turn his nose up in disgust because he’s homeless? What would Patton do if he told him? Turn him in? Try to convince him to go back home?

He shakes his head. No, he’s not going to tell them. He would rather keep Logan’s under the breath rambling and Patton’s smile, or the way Roman acts like a prince to all of the little kids that pass through the shop. He would rather keep of that than lose it just for a false sense of security.

As Virgil leaves the little wooded area, he walks around for a bit before settling on the swings. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and the overcast sky makes the morning look earlier and darker than it really is. The humidity in the air is enough to make anyone sweat.

There’s no clock around him, but he knows that Patton is right on time when he sees the old car come up. It’s beat up and needs a new paint job, but the little white four-door makes him smile. He gets up slowly as Patton rolls down the window, and his stomach drops as he sees Logan in the front seat.

“Hey there kiddo! Logan and Roman are coming along, is that alright?” Patton’s voice calls to him cheerfully, and there’s a small smile on his face as he nods. On the inside, a trickle of fear curls itself around him, and he represses the urge to decline.

He slides into the back, glad that he was given the warning that Roman was there as well.

“Good morning Virgil. I did not think you to be the one to jog early in the morning.” Logan greets him, his head buried in a book. The image of Logan reading at a dinner table while chaos goes on around him flashes through his head, and Virgil pushes away the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, it helps me wake up.” He says casually, like he totally didn’t rehearse those exact lines the night before.

“Well, I’m not a morning person. Which is why coffee is honestly a god send, a gift from the heavens, like the immortal, golden-” Roman starts, and Virgil snorts and rolls his eyes.

“You’re going to make Patton fall asleep at the wheel if you keep that up, Roman.” Logan says, not taking his eyes off of the book for one second.

Roman crosses his arms and juts his lip out ever so slightly, as if they weren’t pouty enough already. “Am not! Patton likes my monologues!”

“You monologue like a villain?” Virgil quips before he can stop himself. He hears a snort from Patton and the edges of Logan’s mouth twitch up.

“No! Like a valiant hero delivering his goodbye speech to his love-”

“Definitely a villian,” Logan mutters, and Patton unsuccessfully represses a laugh. Logan smiles, and Virgil feels accomplished, even as Roman continues to pout during the ride.

They pass by the bakery at some point, and he notes that they’ve passed by five different coffee shops and cafes. Were they onto him? Did someone know that he wasn’t living like a normal person? Was he not a part of their friend group like he thought?

The car slows down and his mind catches onto the fact that they’re near a cafe that he used to visit, and his heart races at the thought of the two employees working-

“Here we are kids!” Patton announces with a smile as he parks as close as he can to the shop. Virgil tries to get a look inside, catching the signature look of an orange beanie working at the counter. He takes in a deep breath as he exits the car, flinching slightly as the others follow suit.

“Logan, no books in the cafe while we’re together!” Patton scolds, angrily marching up to the teen and snatching the book out of his hand. Even when he’s angry, he still has the look of a teddy bear.

Albeit one that’s scolding his friends like a dad.

Logan rolls his eyes and places a bookmark before Patton puts it in the car, and his smile is back on his face in a second. For a second, Virgil marvels at how well they all know each other. It’s like…

Well, it’s like they were puzzle pieces that fit together to make a perfect picture. The thought makes him happy for them, but another part of him feels a twinge of pain. That meant he was just…tacked on. A lost puzzle piece that doesn’t belong anywhere, really.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts as they walk into the cafe, and Virgil gets hit with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. The memories of him walking in here on the days where it wasn’t too busy linger in the back of his mind, along with his thoughts.

“Joan! It’s good to see you today!” Roman announces happily, throwing his arms open to hug the employee. They let out a bright laugh, and Virgil hangs back, feeling awkward and strange. He felt like he shouldn’t be watching what was going on, like he was intruding on…on something special.

“Hey everyone! I thought you only came here for special occasions?” Joan raises an eyebrow, and he feels his already racing heart beat out of place. Special occasions? Why was he here then? He wasn’t special, he wasn’t even…really a part of the group.

“It is!” Patton says, looking around for Virgil before throwing an arm around him and guiding him to the front of the group. “Our newbie just finished his first month working with us!”

Virgil quickly does the math in his head, before coming to the conclusion that…

The truth hits him in the gut. It takes every bit of willpower that he has to not crumble to the floor and sob. Whether it was from anxiety or happiness, he felt the need to cry.

A month and a half away from his parents. From his abusers. The idea of that…that was liberating. It was like lifting a weight off of his shoulders, and he felt at a loss for words.

“Aww,” Patton’s voice cuts through his thoughts and he blinks quickly, pushing back the tears. “Don’t cry Virgil!”

Roman comes over to rest an elbow on his shoulder, using his height to his advantage. “Yeah, don’t get all sappy on us. The last thing we need is for you to cry-”

“Which will make Patton cry, and then because you’re highly empathetic as well, Roman, you’ll start crying, and then Joan and I will have to clean up the emotional jungle,” Logan clears his throat, and lets out a yelp as Patton pulls him in for a hug.

Virgil’s breath gets caught in his throat, and he resists the urge to sob right then and there. He’s so damn lucky to have…to have made a really, really stupid mistake that lead him to…to all of them. He’s so happy. Sure, he’s homeless and doesn’t really…deserve to be working with them, but…it makes him happy.

But he’s still the odd one out.

He wiggles slightly, and everyone moves away, and they all smile at him, pulling him into line. Patton glances at Virgil before leaning and whispering to Joan something. He bounces out of line and pulls at his hoodie before he finds himself seated at one of the couches.

“U-Uh…aren’t I supposed to order?”

“Nope! I ordered something special!” He grins, and Virgil can feel his anxiety melting away. He smiles, and relaxes into the cushions.

Logan and Roman order, and they all sit down. They chat, mostly about their lives while Virgil is content to just…listen and watch them. It’s better if he’s in the background anyways. The sounds of the coffee shop and his friends put a settling calm over him. Compared to the hot, summer days that are like his anxiety, this is like a soothing and cooling balm.

His eyes droop downwards, and he nods off. It’s a deep sleep for now, and Patton manages to take a picture without the flash and add it to his collection.

“Patton,” Logan says, leaning and lowering his voice. “Roman. I would like to…address some concerns I have about Virgil,” He chooses his words wisely, like he always does. He looks at his friends before glancing at the sleeping teen opposite him.

“What is it Lo?” Roman asks, looking as confused as Patton is. “Do you think he’s not working hard enough?”

“No,” He cuts in quickly, before Patton can protest. “I just…I’m worried that he doesn’t have anywhere to go.” He says it slowly, like he’s still processing the words himself. He glances down into the mug of coffee before him, his own facial expression reflected in the dark coffee.

“…I noticed that too. Do you think he might be homeless?” Patton says quietly. It’s not for secrecy, it’s more so for Virgil’s sake than anything else. The poor kid looks sleep deprived almost all the time, and too skinny for what would be considered healthy. While he’s tall and imposing when he’s awake, asleep he….

He looks like a scared teenager. He curls into himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller than what he is. His arms are wrapped around himself as if the atmosphere is cold or he’s trying to protect himself, even in his dreams. His purple hair falls onto the eyes, and his breathing is deep and even. Even if Virgil doesn’t notice it, all of them have noticed the way he always looks troubled or scared, and his flinches.

His words settle among the group, and while it may not be said, both have come to a silent agreement with Pat. There’s no way that Virgil is sleeping in a bed, let alone somewhere with shelter. His clothes are nearly the same, and while it might be a pleasant smell, he smells like the earth. His hair is constantly dirty, and he always wears his hoodie like a security blanket.

It’s silent, for a while, until Roman gently clears his throat. “We should say something about it. We can’t let one of our friends be homeless.”

Patton nods in agreement, and both teens look at Logan. He pushes up his glasses and examines Virgil with sympathy. “There might be a reason why he’s not telling us. I’ve been doing some research, and most teens who are homeless are either runaways or kicked out. Plus, Virgil is old enough to be emancipated. There are too many variables, and we shouldn’t scare him away. It would only make matters worse, and then we wouldn’t be able to help him.”  
  
“So we’re just supposed to…let him continue on like this?! That’s horrible!” Roman stage whispers to him, and Patton nods in agreement.

“No,” Logan says, calmly and rationally. “We let Virgil know we’re here for him until he’s comfortable to come forward to us himself. It’s ultimately his decision, is it not?”

Roman sighs, sitting back into his chair and sighing. Patton lets out a breath, and all three of them glance at Virgil.

“He looks…so defenseless.” Patton mutters, reaching over to wipe his hair off of his eyes. Roman takes off his jacket and lays it over Virgil gently while Logan puts a pillow underneath his head. Simple acts of kindness that make a world of difference to someone.

While they haven’t known him for too long, they’ve all have grown attached to the strange teenager that tried to steal cookies from them. To be fair, they weren’t even wedding cookies. It was something Logan had came up with on the spot, and they all went with it. Right now, he would deny having felt pity for the thief, but later on he would admit it.

They talk in whispers until Joan comes along with their surprise. It’s a cinnamon roll with the works-bacon, heavy cream, and extra cinnamon in the dough. It came with a mug of coffee and some creamer as well.

Virgil’s eyes flutter open as his arm is gently shook, and he blinks at the others staring at him with wide smiles. “Congratulations kiddo! You worked a whole month with us!” Patton cheers, handing him the cinnamon roll.

He blushes as he takes it, staring at the dessert. He stares at it long enough for him to realize that Roman’s jacket is on him, and his eyes widen once he realizes that he feel asleep.

“A-Ah, um, I’m, uh, ah, I’m sorry I went to sleep, I-I know this is all important to everyone an-and I shouldn’t have, uh, fallen asleep?” He winces as Roman removes his jacket from him, the absence making his legs go cold without it.

“Don’t worry about it. It is early, and you have yet to eat,” Logan takes a sip of his coffee, and Roman rolls his eyes slightly.

“Besides, there is nothing to be sorry about sleeping. Although, Pat might blackmail you with the picture,” Roman adds on, side eyeing Patton.

“I would never! Besides, you look so cute when you sleep,” He coos, and Virgil burries his head in his hands, a smile on his face.

For a moment, he’s happy. He has friends, he has a job, and for now, life is relatively stable for Virgil. It’s a huge leap from before.

He lets out a laugh, when the bell signaling the door opening rings, and he looks over.

All of the color drains from his face, and his hands fall back to his lap, where the cinnamon roll is. The world around him seems to drain of any and all color, and his heart roars in his eyes as he tunnel visions in on the man walking in.

The man is an adult in his late forties, with one of those stupid capes that only go to his elbows. His yellow shirt underneath is bright and sickly, matching his gloves. Virgil shivers when he thinks about the gloves coming off, and the rest of the man floods into his minds eye.

The bowler hat, just tipped over slightly to cover the hideous scar covering half of his face. His blind eye, yellowing with age. The half smirk that’s always on his face when he’s not angry, and his lanky form.

But, that is where the differences end. Virgil shares the same nose, the same eye and facial shape. They’re both lanky, but he carries himself with the ease and confidence of someone who’s gotten away with murder and wants everyone to know.

A heartbeat, and Virgil catches his breath as the man goes to the counter.

His father has found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways that's all I'm gonna post for right now! I'll try again tomorrow or later tonight


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Holy shit, I wasn't expecting this to get so *gestures vaguely*   
> 2) thanks for the positivity on this nyall, I actually kinda hate this but I don't hate it enough to lose it to tumblr  
> 3) Violence and abuse warning towards the end

Virgil watches his father talk to the cashier, who glances between the two, and oh god, oh god no, they noticed, they know and his father is going to tell them and he’ll have to go back and he just started feeling comfortable he doesn’t want to go back pleasedontmakehimgoback.

His chest heaves, and he places the cinnamon roll on the coffee table in front of him. The other look at him with concern and worry, and Patton gently reaches over to grab his hoodie sleeve. “Everything okay?” He asks softly, and Virgil mentally apologizes to the group.

“I…I uh, I have, I have to, use, um, I have to go, I’msorry!” He bolts, practically sprinting to the hallway where he can observe but not be seen. The tendrils are back and the squeeze his chest, and he can’t breathe, oh god, he’s going to die, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe hecan’t breathehecan’tbreathe-

He grips his arms, digging his nails into his arms. It reopens old scars, and, jesus christ, he’s bleeding but it’s better than panicking, right? It’s not a lot, but it pools into his hoodie. Vaguely, there’s the thought of him having to clean out the blood later on, but the tendrils recede. If only for a moment, his breathing and his heartbeat slow down. He’s calm, but it’s only the eye of the storm.

Mentally, he starts to form a plan. Wait until his father leaves, go back, eat, and then explain to his friends everything that has lead him to this point. They would understand, right? Right?

His father turns to him, and Virgil freezes, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. Then, when he turns to his group of friends, his flight or fight reflexes kick in, and he rushes into the bathroom. He scrambles to the stall closest to him and locks the door. The tendrils come back, and they reach for his mind, as his thoughts race and come up with every single bad scenario they can come up with. He has to return home, he won’t have any friends, he won’t ever escape, he won’t ever leave, he can’t escape, he just wants to be free, he can’t be free, he wants to leave, he can’t leave-

“Virgil?”

He flinches as Patton walks in, and upon instinct he sits down on the toilet and puts his feet up. Without even thinking, he sucks in a breath and holds it, waiting.

Patton walks around, checking the stalls. He pauses in front of Virgil’s, and calls for him again. His voice is gentle, caring, and Virgil fights back a sob. He doesn’t deserve such a nice friend. He’s such a fuck up, he’s so stupid, god, what has he done for them to be their friend?

Eventually, he leaves, and Virgil finds himself sobbing quietly in the bathroom. He’s so pathetic, a voice hisses in his mind. It’s not his normal thoughts, it’s the words that his father has said to him. During the past month and a half, normally he would try to fight them back. It was a slow process, but even he recognized it as a part of recovery.

But now, he curls into himself. His thoughts and the harsh voice hiss at him, overlapping and Virgil grasps at his head, tearing his fingers into his head. He wants it to stop, even if it’s true-

The door slams open, and his feet slam down onto the floor with a loud slap, and Virgil immediately recognizes the pattern. He holds his breath as the feet pause in the middle of the bathroom, and he holds back a sob.

“Virgil. I know you’re in here,” His voice isn’t angry, but he knows he is. “Come out right fucking now, if you know what’s good for you.” His voice doesn’t change a bit, being silky and smooth. Even if he knows that it wouldn’t be a good idea to, he wants to. His father has a voice that would make anyone follow his orders. The words “silver tongue” pop into his head, a phrase that he had overheard Logan using once.

Logan…Right. His friends were still out there. If he could wait this out, he could go to his friends. Being around them made him at the very least calm, and…and they would help him calm down. He won’t explain anything to them yet, but…right now, he just wants to see Patton’s face and hear Logan and Roman argue.

Just the thought of them flushes the next panic attack out of him, and his hands stop shaking as hard as before.

“Virgil,” His father snarls, his anger seeping through. He bangs on the stall door in front of him, and his arms go up to cover his face. “Come out right fuck-” His words slip as the door creaks open, and Virgil peaks through the cracks to see a glimpse of Roman’s jacket.

“Is everything okay? I was on my way in and heard a loud bang,” He can hear Roman using his business voice, the one he uses when he doesn’t like a particular business partner. Virgil silently thanks Roman repeatedly, watching as Roman leans against the doorframe.

“Oh yes, everything is okay. I was just looking for my son,” His father moves towards Roman, and he holds his breath. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Mr. D,” Virgil can see his gloved hands moving outwards, and Roman crosses his. There’s a moment of hesitation, but eventually his father leaves.

Virgil gently stands up, taking in a shaking breath. Roman walks in front of his stall, and is about to knock when he bursts through, throwing himself at Roman. His arms wrap around his neck and he chokes back a sob.  They stumble backwards, but Roman’s strong arms clutch him.

He feels safe.

“Hmm.” Roman hums, rubbing circles into his back. “No offense, Verge, but you did just come out of a bathroom stall and-” Virgil steps back and laughs, wiping away the stray tears that had escaped his eyes. He doesn’t mention anything, thankfully, he leans against the wall and waits for him.

“So…you had us pretty worried for a second there, man.” Roman says as he rolls up his sleeves. In the mirror, Virgil can see him glance at his arms but not say anything.

“S…Sorry,” He croaks out, clearing out his throat. He hisses as the soap and water hits his open cuts. “I uh, I…I got really sentimental,” He stammers out. It’s a lame excuse, he knows, but Roman smiles. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, and Virgil’s hands stop shaking.

“Well, we better get out there before Patton comes in like a mother hen,” Virgil laughs, and he rolls his sleeves down. They walk out, and Virgil does a double take.

He has never seen Patton look so serious before, like he’s deeply troubled about something. Logan and him are in a seemingly deep discussion, but both perk up once they see Virgil and Roman leaving the bathroom.

“Our heroes return!” He squeals, and they all take their spots. “Oh man, you missed it Verge, Joan and Talyn got into a fight with the man that came through and after the ruckus he caused he got kicked out! Permanently!”

A flutter of hope rises in his chest, and Virgil doesn’t stop the smile on his face. “Wow. Was it that bad?”

Logan nods. “In such a fine establishment like this, they don’t serve customers who are rude and cause a lot of noise. This is a place for relaxing and celebration, after all.”

All of their voices wash away any panic Virgil had from his encounter with his father, and he lets himself relax into the chair again. Roman doesn’t mention anything that happened in the bathroom, or his arms, and they continue to celebrate.

Virgil finds himself cracking jokes with Patton, and soon they have to leave to start up the bakery. When they leave, Virgil glances back into the cafe.

A part of him files away the place for future reference.

 

* * *

 

Any normal person would, perhaps, tell the truth after such an event that just happened. But Virgil goes to work, feeling a calm wash over him as he goes through the familiar routine. Not many people come into the bakery due to the heat, and he entertains the thought of mentioning an ice cream machine.

However, even as he does more stocking in the backroom, a trinkle of anxiety lingers in the back of his mind. Logan and Roman had come back during lunch, and they were all seemingly busy in the office. Even though the office really was just a glorified closet, but it counted.

Virgil always made sure to knock when he had to ask one of them for something, and when had earlier to get Logan to sign for the delivery, he had heard his name. It was spoken by Roman, and from the way he had said it made it…seem like he was mad.

Was Roman talking about how bad of a worker Virgil really is? Did he notice how similar “Mr. D” looked to him? A cold sweat breaks out on his neck, and his chest heaves. The tendrils were back, stronger than ever.

Was….Was Roman going to fire him?

No. He wouldn’t. He…didn’t have a reason to? Right? Or…or maybe earlier today in the bathroom he had fucked up beyond repair, and he was such a screw up, god, he screwed up the one good thing in his life and he won’t be able to fix it without messing up everything-

Virgil doesn’t realize how the world spins before him until he leans against the cool brick walls. He fights back tears and presses his overheating body into the walls. His head starts to feel like a hammer pounding against the walls of his head. His body burns, feeling like a fire was burning from inside out.

He shuts his eyes, trying to blink away the spots in his vision. Once his breathing returns to normal he continues on, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the black spots in his vision. He feels light headed and sick.

The day goes by in a blur, and all Virgil can focus on is walking, moving forward, put one foot in front of another.

But a few blocks away from Prince Charming Confectioneries, the hair on his neck stands up, and he can feel someone burning holes into his neck. His shoulder tenses, and his pace begins to get faster. He knows who it is, he just wants to get away.

He passes by a couple of buildings before he realizes he’s coming up to an alleyway, and he ducks into it, breathing heavily. His body is wracked as he heaves, trying to suck in air through his lungs.

The tendrils tighten their grip and he leans against the cool walls of the buildings, coughing and grabbing for support from anything, anyone, god, he’s drowning, he’s so hot, he’s burning, he’s drowning, someone, anyone, make the pounding in his head stop, someone is watching him, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, there’s smoke and water in his lungs and he can’t breathe, someone, please, help him-

“Found you,” His father’s voice pierces through his mind as more adrenaline rushes through his body.

Virgil jumps away from the imposing figure, flinching as he takes a step forward. He glances behind him, looking at the brick wall that separates him from the other half of the alley. It’s high for him to try and jump, even if there was a dumpster to jump from. His father was quick.

His father glances at him, giving him a once over. “I knew you wouldn’t be far. It was just a two hour drive away from our town,” He casually looks at his gloves, as if making sure there isn’t one fleck of dust on them.

His heart drops when he realizes just how long it took him to simply walk away from his house-sleeping on the backroads, avoiding people and crowded areas. It took him two days to do that on his own. Was he really that bad at running away?

“Now I’ll give you a choice, Virgil. You can home and take your punishment like a man,” His father takes one step towards him, and Virgil steps backwards, a part of him knowing that he’s just cornering himself.

“Or,” His one good eye looks stares him down, and he surpresses the urge to try and run past him. The world is already shaking, or maybe he is, but his head is still pounding and it’s still too hard for him to even breathe correctly. “You die in an alleyway all alone.”

They stare each other down for a split second, but with each passing heartbeat for Virgil, it feels like an eternity. His thoughts race at a million miles per hour, and it just makes the pounding in his head worse.

“Times up,” Virgil’s train of thought screeches to a stop as he’s backing up against the brick wall. His brain is too foggy and slow to process the blow to his stomach, but distantly he hears a crack in his chest. He crumples to the ground, curling up and holding his stomach.

Pain bursts in his head, interrupting the steady pounding. He groans, looking up at the looming figure above him. Lights and shapes dance in front of his eyes and he sucks in a breath, waiting for another blow.

Instead, nothing comes. Something is being said to him, and sluggishly Virgil knows that he has just two days to call his father and go home, but…

But he won’t.

Instead, he crawls over to a dumpster, leaning behind it. His ribs hurt and his lip is split and bleeding, and the pounding gets worse. He can’t think with all of the pain his body is experiencing. His brain feels slow and tired and heavy, and he rests his chin on his shoulder, ignoring the pain.

The heat of the summer day pounds into him, and unconsciousness slowly trickles into Virgil’s brain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're from tumblr, you might otherwise know this chapter as the '4.5' chapter, buuuuuut since I can't do that on AO3 it's just chapter five ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

They decided to meet for lunch the same day, especially after what happened in the cafe. They were all worried about Virgil, the mysterious teenager who bore a shocking resemblance to the man who had gotten kicked out of the cafe. What added onto their worry was how visceral Virgil had reacted to seeing him. The running away and hiding, the crying into Roman’s jacket, and the color draining from his face, it all lead up to one conclusion: That man was from his past, and has done terrible things to him. **  
**

It wasn’t something Roman was willing to ignore for any longer. He knew the others knew about Virgil’s scars, and had noticed how he got jumpy if one of them raised their hands towards him to quickly, or if they had to shout at each other from across the bakery.

Roman had, quite frankly, gotten attached to Virgil. It wasn’t that he was Virgil’s knight and Virgil was…some damsel in distress. (Even though, if Roman was willing to admit it, he would say that he often found himself clenching his fists at the thought of the yellow man hurting Virgil in some way). It was more so that he was a good friend. When he was relaxed, his face was like the water in the sun-reflecting happiness and inviting.

But there was still seed of doubt in his head. There could be other reasons for the way he shook, and how he was so protective of his hoodie. After all, teens were runaways for different reasons outside of abusive parents. With all of the scars on his arms, Roman couldn’t tell for sure. But it was something he had to discuss with his friends.

“You can’t be serious! Virgil-he wouldn’t!” Patton almost shrieks, and Logan’s face is as impassive as ever. “Why would you think that? He’s our friend, and, and he wouldn’t!” He looks frantically between Logan and Roman, mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed together.

“It’s something to consider, Pat. I mean, what if Mr. D and Virgil are similar because they’re both the same thing and not related? I mean, would it be so hard to consider?” Roman huffs, crossing his arms. He was leaning against the wall while the others were sitting.

“But…” Patton looks down, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He wouldn’t, right Logan?”

Logan looks at them both, the face and the picture of calm. On one hand, it’s infuriating. On the other, it’s nice to have someone who isn’t completely ruled by emotion in the office. Not that Roman would ever say that, of course.

“While it is true that many runaway teens often seek self-medicating options, I have to side with Patton on this. Virgil does not exhibit any odd behaviors to make me warrant an accusation like that.” Logan says, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “However, it is possible that he…may succumb to something of the same degree later on.”

Roman exhales, finally glad to have someone on his side. “Thank you, Wikipedia.”

“Don’t call me that,” Logan mutters, looking up at Patton’s face. His eyes are shiny and his bottom lip trembles, and Roman’s anger deflates a little.

“I didn’t mean to say that Virgil was a bad person. I just wanted to bring it up,” He makes sure to soften the edge to his voice, and he sees Patton deflate a little.

“I know,” He mutters. “But it’s just…I don’t think it’s that.” He looks away, staring at the wall.

“Well, then what do you suggest it is?” Even Logan has made sure to make his voice gentle.

Patton takes in a deep breath, and finally looks Roman in the eyes. “I think the man, Mr. D? Is somehow related to Virgil, and I think…I think he’s hunting him down for some…something terrible.”

The words that Patton said settle over the group as they grow quiet. It was a possibility. In a way, it was worse than what Roman had even suggested. But he still had an itch, knowing that either suggestion was wrong, somehow. It was like what Logan had suggested-it may not be happening right now as they speak, but….

It might happen in the future.

“Well, we have to stop it. Once and for all, whatever Virgil’s doing,” Roman huffs, turning towards the door. He catches a glimpse of the teen walking by, and hopes he hasn’t been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. “Mr. D, whoever he is, won’t continue what he’s doing. And Virgil won’t either.” He growls, starting for the door.

Logan grabs his arm before he leaves, his voice leaking frustration through his calm. “We can’t confront either of them outright. Mr. D-”

“More like Mr. Dick,” Roman mutters as Patton shoots him a glare.

“-Will lie,” Logan continues on like Roman hadn’t just interrupted him. “And Virgil will too, or he’ll end up running off. Confrontation will ultimately lead to more confrontation.”

He lets out a loud sigh, slumping against the door. “So? We can handle it! We’ve handled worse!”

“Roman,” Logan’s voice is leaking more and more frustration. “Think about this way: what will happen to the bakery?”

The anger seeps out of Roman almost immediately as an icy cold feeling of dread wells up in his stomach. Having apparently the reaction he wanted, Logan lets go of his arm.

“This bakery is our livelihood.” Logan’s voice is low and cautious. “If we risk a confrontation, it might lead to us losing our bakery for good.”

Roman’s breath hitches and he holds it, looking at Logan and Patton. Patton doesn’t look him in the eye, but there’s a single tear that falls down his face and onto his cardigan.

He lets out the breath slowly, his anger slowly fading away with it. But the itch to know still scratches at him, and his shoulders sag. “Fine. We won’t confront him.”

Logan breathes out a sigh of relief, before Roman perks up and opens the door.

“So I will.” He says cheerily. He closes it and looks around, before realizing that Virgil would be off by now.

He ignores the protests of Pat and Lo behind him as he walks out. His strides are long and swift, and his face is furrowed in a mixture of frustration and curiosity. He has to know if Virgil is worth the effort, or if Virgil is in danger. Either way, he’s getting his answers. He’ll get them right now.

The sun, while setting and casting long shadows across the downtown area, still beats hot against the civilians. People pass by as they hurry to their air conditioned cars and go home to relax and get away from the heat. Roman doesn’t notice the way people look at him, or how his forehead sweats with determination. And heat.

At some point, he thinks he sees Mr. D, but he disappears before Roman can call him over to talk with him and ask questions. He stops when he realizes he’s short of breath.

He places a hand on the building next to him, and peers into the alleyway. He can’t see down it well, only a single leg of what he’s assumes is a homeless man escaping the heat. It’s behind the dumpster, and Roman might have went down to check on him if it wasn’t so damn hot.

He grabs the collar of his shirt with his free hand and starts to shake it lightly, trying to create a cool breeze. He glances behind him to see Patton and Logan riding up to him in the car, and the itch is soothed, for now.

They stop besides Roman, and he sighs. Patton rolls down the window. “C’mon Ro, now isn’t the time. You can ask him tomorrow, in the morning.”

“Virgil does have an impeccable record of coming on time.” Logan adds on, and he sighs and gets in the backseat.

For a moment, he flashes back to earlier that morning. The way Virgil had mocked him, but the way he seemed so relaxed and at ease. It’s enough to place a seed of worry, rather than anger, into Roman’s mind about him.

 

* * *

 

He paces impatiently at the lobby of the bakery, glancing at the watch on his wrist and back up to the clock behind the counter. Roman lets out an angry huff and continues to pace.

“Pacing and looking at the clock won’t make the time go by any faster,” Logan comments, looking up from the paperwork he was doing. Patton nods in agreement, a bit of frosting on his glasses and in his hair.

“Well, he’s late. And both of you,” He gives them both pointed looks, at which they both look away. “Said he’s usually on time.”

“Usually. That is to say when all is good, and that is a rather big assumption to make, Roman.”

“Whatever! If he’s not here by noon…” He mumbles, trailing off with his train of thought. Patton looks worriedly at the clock and at the door, obviously expecting Virgil to walk through any minute with an apology.

An hour passes by, and there’s still no sign of Virgil. Patton has gone in the back to decorate, but he hasn’t said a word to either of them. Logan and Roman both exchange glances when he comes back out, eyes puffy and red. But neither of them pry, knowing that Patton would go to them if he needed comfort.

As more time passes by, Roman’s frustration grows. He has to be right. He has to be! Nothing else would explain why the emo turd wasn’t at work! He hasn’t stopped pacing since he had gotten to Prince Charming Confectionaries.

Maybe he had saved up all of his money to leave them to rot. Maybe he was in some sort of house with a bunch of other nobodies doing questionable things. Maybe-

“A word, Roman.” Logan hisses as he grabs his arm and pulls him towards the ‘office’ behind the counter. On their way there, he manages to glimpse at Patton. His face is downcast and he won’t meet his eyes, and Roman’s spirits fall.

“You’re making Pat upset.” Logan crosses his arms and glares at Roman. “Stop your incessant pacing and do your work.”

“Just admit I’m right and I will!” He crosses his arms as well, turning his face and his chin up. “It’s been a possibility since the beginning and you know it!”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down. “I knew there was something going on. But you have to think about the consequences here.”

“Consequences?” Roman snorts. “Right, like having a little-”

“Lower your voice,” Logan hisses. Roman stops and glares, before leaning back.

“I had such high hopes about him, and now he’s crushed them. What are we supposed to do, Logan? Just let something like that slide? We…we didn’t do a background check on him!” Roman stage whispers.

“I don’t know,” Logan snaps, and Roman blinks in surprise. “The best thing we can do is to wait and see, and to cheer up Patton. I don’t think you realize how close the two have become over the past two months.”

Roman falls silent. He thinks back to when he had first laid eyes on Virgil. The too skinny, too lanky, too tired teen that had accidentally eaten some samples and had won some sympathy from both Logan and Patton to let him stay. Of all the people that Virgil has grown on, it would definitely be Patton.

“Sorry,” He mutters. His ego deflates, and he glances at the clock. “But he’s still late.”

“And he’ll be punished accordingly. Now let’s go see-” Logan and Roman both jump back in surprise and Patton rushes through the office door.

His eyes are wide and frantic, and Roman immediately perks up. His cardigan is undone, and there’s tears running down his face. “I-It’s, it’s Virgil, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, he doesn’t make any sense, he threw up-…”

Logan and Roman both rush out to find Virgil leaning heavily against the door. Sweat drips from his hair to his face, and his mouth is chapped. He’s pale, paler than usual. His hands are shaking and his eyes are closed.

He opens them slowly, like it takes him a great effort to. “H…Help…” He croaks out, taking a step forward before swaying. Before any of the three boys can react he falls to the floor and starts to shake violently.

Roman, Logan, and Patton all rush forward while Logan barks out orders. There’s only so much they can do for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hospital and injury warning for the chapter guys

The sounds of early morning birds make colors dance behind his closed eyes. For a moment, that’s all there is-sounds and colors. There is no memory of what happened yesterday, no memory of struggles or of friendships. For all he knows, in this moment, Virgil is just sounds and colors.

But when he slowly opens his eyes, the sounds become less faint, and his vision focuses on the wall in front of him. It’s an old brick wall, with mildew and mold growing up from the ground. The texture of the bricks reminds him of a smell-a bakery, just a few blocks away. A face flashes through his mind of a kind, smiling teen with glasses on.

The face evokes a memory to the surface, and suddenly it all comes crashing in at once upon Virgil. The park, the coffee, the bakery, Logan, Patton, Roman-all of it, at once. It gives him a headache that sears into his mind like a burning iron bar, and brings a small moment of clarity to his thinking.

But as his other senses come back to him, the pain of yesterday slowly tugs into his mind, and even taking a deep breath makes him blink away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. The pain is excruciating. There’s enough to make him want to just lie there and wait for unconsciousness again.

But the face of Patton’s face lighting up when he sees him walk through the door makes him place his palms against the warm asphalt. He grits his teeth and hisses as his ribs protest, and licks his lips. He tastes blood, and a part of wants to just sit back down and sleep. He still stands.

Virgil braces a hand against the wall behind him for balance, and waits for the world to stop spinning. Blood roars in his ears and he blinks away tears again as his heart pounds in his chest. The colors seem amplified by the sounds of the birds and the early morning traffic. It obscures his vision and he shuts his eyes, trying to will away the saturation of the colors.  

But, it’s not morning. It’s early noon and there is little traffic because of the heatwave that had wreaked its havoc on the town.

Once the colors and the noises go back to normal, he uses what little strength he has left to open his eyes. Something white and black catches his eyes in front of him, and he bends down, picking it up with shaking hands.

It’s an old flip phone, one that he would have begged for as a middle schooler. It looks brand new, with no scratches or dents on it. The screen facing him flashes a text message alert, and out of pure curiosity he opens it. After reading the words on the screen, anger surges through him.

How dare his father ask for him to come home and go ‘back to work’ with him?! After yesterday, after all those years of the abuse…no. He wasn’t going to go home, ever again. The house wasn’t even ‘home’ to him anymore. It was nothing more than a skeleton of a memory with shattered feelings.

With the anger fueling him, he throws the old cellular device against the wall opposite to him, the sound of the residing crack of the plastic echoing through the alleyway. The pieces fall apart and Virgil stares at them, the anger cooling away to…

Feeling settled.

Despite the pain that he’s in, Virgil feels settled. Like he was always unsure of himself, always second guessing why he’s doing this in the first place. A miniscule part of him wanted to go back the minute he was fifteen minutes away from the house. But upon seeing the shattered remains of the phone, Virgil feels like he’s finally made a decision.

Virgil would never go back to his father.

Despite all of emotions running through him, his train of thought is still foggy and slow, and the pain in his ribs is screaming at him. He gently places a hand on them and winces at their tenderness, before putting a step forward.

There really isn’t any other place for him to go to besides the Prince Charming Confectionaries.

So he walks.

The heat is relentless, beating down on Virgil. The pain in his lungs makes him take short and shallow breaths, and he feels the tendrils of a panic attack curling up to him. The light of the sun reflects on all things shiny-cars, windows, peoples cellphones, earrings, shoes-anything. It blinds Virgil, and he has to rely on muscle memory to get back home.

Every step brings on a wave of pain and he walks hunched over, holding his stomach with the other arm out to lean on buildings. He can’t walk too fast or else he’ll be out of breath in five steps-if he walks too slow, it draws out the pain. So he shuffles, wheezing in and out. He licks his lips, tasting salt and blood. Everything is shaking-or maybe he’s just shaking. He can’t tell anymore.

Step after step, it brings on a new wave of pain everytime. If Virgil stops to try and think, just for a brief moment, he can’t focus on moving. He can’t focus on two things at once. So he latches onto the bakery and keeps walking.

He’s not sure of what he’ll do when he gets there, for now, he just has to get there. It’s a slow, and painful walk.

But eventually he gets onto the block, and he’s sweating, and he’s thirsty and hot, so damn hot, he just…He just needs to get in there. One foot after the other, don’t think of anything else. He grips his shirt tightly as he faces the door, hunched over. His ribs are screaming at him in waves of pain, begging him to lie down and go to sleep.

Vaguely, he recognizes Patton rushing up to him as he pushes the door inwards, his arms shaking so badly that it takes all of his focus to walk inside.

The smell of the bakery hits him once he manages to lean against the door, and his stomach rumbles, and he’s hungry. Or he’s not, as a force of something that tastes like bile and acid pushes it way out of his mouth.

Patton stares at Virgil, eyes wide and mouth open before he rushes back. Soon Roman and Logan follow through, and Virgil think’s he says something before the floor rushes to him.

The last thing he hears is the sound of footsteps and panicked voices.

There are brief lapses of when he can push through unconscious and focus in on the sounds. Patton’s worried voice carries to him as a gentle hand strokes his hair. He’s trying to remain calm, Virgil can tell by the way his voice breaks and from what he’s saying. But it’s hard to comprehend and he’s in so much pain.

Another lapse, and Roman is carrying him bridal style somewhere that smells like antiseptic and cleaning supplies. Faintly all he can think of is a hospital room, or an emergency room. He burrows deeper in Roman’s strong arms, trying to envision him instead of the terrifying waiting room. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip tightens around Virgil, and it’s so comforting and relaxing.

The next time, Logan is holding his hand and is trying to ask him a question. Something something, Virgil. Something, something don’t know. A nurse tries to ask him a question and he can’t respond. But then Logan squeezes his hand, and Virgil can squeeze back. It’s a small thing, it’s so small, but it’s enough for Virgil to know that they need his name and a sign of verbal consent, so he lets out a hoarse whisper of yes. “V…Virgil. De…Deceit…”

He can’t move. But there’s nothing to move for, right? Except that he should, but he shouldn’t. There’s only sounds and colors, and that’s all he is. There’s the sound of something beeping to the beat of a heart, and a pinch of pain that makes him see silver and red. Voices that say he’s suffering from something, something he doesn’t quite hear correctly. A time, a date, and suddenly he’s cool.

Virgil is cold, so cold, and he shivers. He didn’t think he had a real body, because he couldn’t move. But he did end up moving. He’s here.

He latches onto that thought as everything fades away.

The last, final lapse of consciousness is when Virgil blearlily thinks that the stupid fucking beeping is annoying. He tries to move his left arm to shut his alarm off, thinking that it’s just another day. But he feels something in his arm, and he opens his eyes.

The room that greets him is tan and white, with the sun streaming in through a window on his right. There’s TV mounted on the corner on the ceiling, and he looks up at it, for some reason thinking that it’s on. When he realizes it’s not, he glances around. There’s a door opposite to him that’s closed, and another one that’s open to a hallway with people in loose clothing walking around.

Something angrily beeps twice, and he looks for the source of it. There’s a heart monitor, beeping along, and then something else beeping twice. Virgil looks at his left arm, before realizing that there’s an IV drip connected to it. He had his arm bend, and he quickly unbends it. The thought of a nurse coming in gives him anxiety.

But, the IV drip had already alerted his nurse. A man who doesn’t look much older than him peeks him, and gives a wide smile. “Hello! I see you’re awake.” Virgil nods, unable to find the right words or questions. “I just need to do a little check up on you before the doctor comes, alright?”

Virgil nods, opening his mouth to say something, but comes to the sudden realization that his throat is parched. “Ah, yeah. Sorry to say, but you’re on a strict no solids diet for a while. I can let you eat some ice!” He nods, a little off put by the nurse’s cheery attitude. The nurse disappears and for a moment, it’s silent.

He goes over the events that had lead him to be in the hospital. Running away was probably the root cause of it all, really. But he doesn’t regret it. Then Virgil would have never met Patton, or Logan, or Roman. It was…a good thing, really. To be in the room.

He groans and closes his eyes. Yeah. It was always good to be in the hospital, he thinks bitterly to himself. The nurse comes back in with a (small) styrofoam cup filled with ice. Virgil eats the ice, letting the wetness soothe his throat. “Thank you,” He glances at the nurses name tag as he takes his pulse, “Remy.”

“It’s no problem! Dr. Picani will be with you in just a moment.” Remy disappears after writing something down, and Virgil waits.

In a matter of minutes, a man with a kind face wearing doctor scrubs with complimentary puns on them walks in. He glances at a clipboard, before turning and closing the door behind him. “So! Virgil, huh? Like the-”

“Roman poet, yeah,” Virgil mutters, looking out the window. It’s nice and cool inside of his hospital room, but the outside must still be sweltering.

“Alright, well, I suppose I should introduce myself! I’m Dr. Picani. You came in a few days ago with a fever greater than 105 degrees, a couple of bruised and fractured ribs, mostly on your left side, and a concussion.” His voice is kind, yet serious. Once Dr. Picani sees that Virgil isn’t going to respond, he goes on. “We kept you sedated for a few days to heal your ribs and to give your body a chance to cool down after some medical procedures. You’ll be here for a few more days for observation, and should be kept on a liquid diet. Most ice and your IV drip here,” Picani briefly taps the IV bag with his pen and looks to Virgil for confirmation that he’s paying attention.

A bird flies by.

He hears a sigh from the doctor and his grip on the sheets tighten. A gentle hand places itself on Virgil’s, and he finally looks at the doctor. “I…is any of, is any of, my, um, family here? H…have you told them?” His voice is still hoarse, it still hurts, but he’s out of ice and his stomach is churning. There’s a brief silence as Picani lets out a long sigh.

“No, we didn’t. Your birthday passed a few days ago-”

Wait. What?

“M…my…my birthday?” He croaks out, his hands back to shaking and tears threaten to come out. “H…how old am I then?” But in his mind, he already knows. It couldn’t be true, could it? This must be some sort of heaven, or hell, or whatever fucking afterlife there was because. Because he couldn’t be 18. He couldn’t be old enough to…

“You’re 18,” Dr. Picani informs, gently taking his face to look into the small flashlight that suddenly appears. Virgil blinks away the tears and falls back onto his bed, bringing his good arm up to cover his eyes.

He…he really did. He made it to adulthood. He made it to legal adulthood. He doesn’t…his father…

A sob wrecks his body and he’s being offered a tissue, and he blows into it. He allows the feeling of happiness and relief to overwhelm him, because he finally fucking made it, and it’s about damn time, he thought he was going to die first before he reached his 18th birthday but he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

Virgil is alive.

For once, the thought brings a sense of certainty and calm.

Once his tears are dried and he eats more ice (courtesy of Remy) he smiles slightly to himself. It feels so good to have bested his own father at his own game.

“You know, Virgil,” Dr. Picani says, after taking his vitals and changing his IV once more. “You can always choose your own family. Blood of covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Remy should check in you periodically, about…every four hours.”

He leaves, the door open just slightly. Virgil thinks about what he had said. In a way, he has chosen his family. They were the ones that had taken him in and given him food and money, and gave him more hope than anything.

Yeah. Virgil has a good family.

He closes his eyes, tired from all of the emotions from today. This time, sleep comes peacefully.

 

* * *

 

The hospital quickly became a stretch of being woken up every fours and being bored while trying to sleep the rest of the days away. Hours stretched on, and the minutes seemed to pass by like slugs. The TV mounted in the corner of his room played cartoons and shows that he had little to no interest in. Remy provided some company and some entertainment, such as books and puzzles, but he quickly found himself growing restless. Getting up to use the bathroom was his one way of getting exercise, and he has fallen plenty of times from his weak legs.

In short, Virgil grew bored.

With being bored, came his own thoughts.

He mostly thought of his family. Not his biological one, but Roman, Patton, and Logan. He was allowed to have visitors, but…no one has come in to see him. They might be busy with the bakery, but typically they could just…close the shop for an hour and says hi, right?

He sighs, glancing up at the TV. Apparently it was supposed to start cooling down, but from the way the hospital is blasting the AC and from the amount of blankets on his bed, it clearly wasn’t going to.

Virgil tries not to linger on the thoughts of them hating him, or worse. He holds onto the hope that they’ll let him back, especially after all of the lying he’s done to them.

A small feeling of dread overwhelms him, and he shudders. He never thought of himself as a liar, but his anxiety…it made him want them to like him, to think of him as a normal guy. But…if they didn’t-

“Visitors!” Remy calls cheerfully into his room, a smile on his face. He takes off his sunglasses and opens the door wider, revealing a worried looking Patton. Behind him was Logan, holding something in his hands, with a plane white paper wrapped around it. It was only them, but Virgil…

A smile breaks onto his face. A small one, but it a wave of relief washes over him as they walk in. Well, Logan walks in while Patton practically throws himself at him for a hug, which he reciprocates with a laugh.

“Missed me?” Virgil asks when Patton pulls away.

“You scared the heck out of us! Especially after what happened in the coffee shop! Gosh, I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us what was going on!” Patton says angrily, but he knows it’s all from affection.

Virgil looks away, and takes in a deep breath. “I’m…I’m sorry, Pat. I just…I just wanted to feel like I was normal for once.”

Silences fills the room, and Virgil doesn’t look either of them in the eye. He can’t look at them, if he does, he won’t be able to keep it together. He doesn’t want to break in front of them, he’s already done that before.

“Well,” Patton sniffs, and Virgil realizes that he’s crying as he slowly slides off of the bed. “You’re part of our family now. So don’t worry about that, okay?”

He nods, and whispers okay as he fights back tears. Logan moves forward, placing the wrapped up…whatever it is on Virgil’s lap.

“I figured you wouldn’t appreciate being in a hospital bored. Your nurse says you’ll be here for another day or so, but you shouldn’t stay here any longer than that.” Logan says quickly, trying to hide his own eyes. “Until then, I thought you might like this.”

Virgil stares at the gift, unsure of what to do with it until it clicks that hey, it’s a gift, he should open it, and he gently takes off the wrapping paper. It’s a book, with a dark purple hardcover. When he shines it in the light, it gives off a slightly metallic look to it. He opens it, a letter falling out.

“That’s from me! And Roman wrote you something as well in the pages!” Patton says, bouncing on his feet.

He picks up the piece of paper. It’s just a plain printer paper folded in half, covered in designs of hearts and bees. There’s one bee that’s purple and black that has a speech bubble on the front, saying, “I hope you…” When he flips it open, there’s the same purple bee with a smile, now saying, “BEE better soon.”

A snort escapes him, then a chuckle, which turns into a giggle, and then he full out starts to laugh. Logan sighs sits down, muttering about childish humor.

“I told you he would like it,” Patton whispers to him as Virgil gently places the homemade card onto his bedside table.

“Thank you. Really, I…I, I really don’t, I really don’t know what to say,” He says once he stops laughing. “It…It’s too much, really.”

Logan frowns. “A simple journal and a handmade card is not too much, Virgil. Typically when someone is in the hospital, it is customary for the patients family to come in and visit first, and then for the friends.”

He glances out the window, sighing through his nose. “Actually…I have to tell you guys something,”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original authors note I put: "AN: The final part to this series! I’m so glad that everyone has enjoyed it this much, thank you all so much for the support!"
> 
> And, really, thank you all so much for the support. Before I wrote this on tumblr (rip) I hardly wrote anything anymore, but now I'm challenging myself to write more and more. 
> 
> So, yeah. Thanks

Roman did want to visit Virgil while he was being hospitalized, he really did, but he also has business obligations to the bakery. Which meant meeting with some businessmen and women and inbetween people to discuss opportunities and financial gains, and to trade business secrets.

Frankly, it made Roman snore and he would have rather have Logan go. He wasn’t good around people, but he was good with numbers and good opportunities and all that business jazz. But he insisted that it was “imperative that the head of a new company shows up to business meetings and mingles with potentially new financial partners.”

If he was being honest, he ignored what Logan said sometimes.

The bakery…yeah, okay, this summer was slow, but of course it would be. The heat always has an impact on what people buy, and they weren’t exactly spending a lot of money on advertising. They really couldn’t afford to either way, they still had to make a profit off of the bakery.

Roman sighs. He sounds a little bit like Logan, and he wants to not focus on the Microsoft turd for a while. Besides, he has to focus on putting his charm and good looks to use while he was mingling with other business people. Not an ideal way to use them, but, it was better than nothing.

The meeting wasn’t supposed to last long-just for the day, and it was open to the public. But no one really wanted to go, besides free food and air conditioning, really. The heatwave was taking a huge impact on the entire state, not just their little town.

As Roman steps off of the train and waits for his cab, his mind wanders to Virgil. Who’s in the hospital. He scowls, mostly to himself. He was such an idiot for overlooking the obvious signs that Virgil…was, well, not in a rather good place and need more help than a simple job could provide. They tried to pay him a fair wage as well, but…

He takes a deep breath, stepping out of the cool shade and into the hot summer sun for a few seconds before getting into the cab car. He tells the driver where to go, and he…he can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. But it had to be going okay, especially since Logan and Patton were at the bakery and looking over it.

Right?

 

* * *

 

The meeting was held inside, and if Roman was being honest, he disliked the catering. He also disliked most of the people. They were all about business, all about making themselves money rather than a mutually beneficial business relationship, which would surely-

He huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Logan was beginning to wear off on him, and he looks around at the crowd of business people. While it was probably for the better that he continued to be social and do some networking, he…he was quite tired of hearing all business. It was like his brain was a train and it was going so slowly that everything seemed too fast.

Roman runs a hand through his hair before escaping to the men’s bathroom. Thankfully it was empty, and he hides himself in a stall, resting his head against the cool stall walls. A part of him wanted to go back out there, but…

A quick text message and a small confirmation lift his spirits, and he smiles. Patton and Logan were going to quickly close down the bakery, and visit Virgil. A soothing balm of relief washes over him, and he quickly exits the stall-

Only to run into a man in a yellow dress shirt that blinds him for a quick second, and a really ugly purple tie. He squeaks out an apology, dropping his phone in the process.

“Here, allow me,” The man bends down to hand him his phone back, and he smiles.

“Thank you, uh-” He blinks, recognizing the bowler hat and the blind eye. Mr. D smiles at him and folds his hands in front of him.

“Hello! It’s been awhile, since the coffee shop. I do apologize for making you worry, I was just looking for my son.” Mr. D’s voice makes him freeze in place, a part of him wanting to stay rooted to the spot to listen to him speak. “By the way, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“R..Roman.” He stutters out, blinking a few times. Why was his brain so foggy?

“Ah, well Roman, since you’re here, I assume you’re a businessman. What part of a business are you?” He continues, like he doesn’t notice how Roman’s eyes shift around the room.

“I…I own part of a bakery. I’m the head of…of, business,” He mutters, trying to fight the fog back. It was strong, and with every word he exchanges with Mr. D, the thicker it becomes.

“Wonderful. Well, I do believe you and I are in a position to-”

The fog dissipates as his phone rings abruptly, and Roman smiles sheepishly, stepping aside. “Hello?”

Roman pauses, listening to Patton on the other line. “Really? My goodness….Well, I’m just about done anyways. I’ll be back as soon as possible…Wait, what about Virgil?…Oh, he’ll be out tomorrow-yes, that’s great Pat…Mhm…Mhm…okay, okay. I’ll come home right now then.” He turns to Mr. D, with his one eye looking rather annoyed at him.

“Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I really should get going. Farewell, Mr. D. Have a wonderful day,” Roman puts on his best customer service voice before he walks out, slightly grossed out that he didn’t wash his hands.

Virgil is okay, he should be getting out soon, probably tomorrow in the evening. He needs someone to take him home, and Pat would but his home is crowded with a giant family, and Logan’s parents are out of town (again) and don’t want any visitors, so Roman would be taking him in. That’s fine, of course, but a little bit of a warning would have been nice. But the important part was that Virgil was okay.

 

* * *

 

Virgil woke up the next morning, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes. An emptiness hung in his stomach, and his throat was dry and scratchy. With weak legs, he manages to make it to the bathroom, cupping his hands to drink the water from the sink. He lets the sink run for a while, finally washing his face to the best of his ability.

He runs a hand through his hair, recoiling at the sensation of how greasy his hair has become. It brought back memories of attempts to clean up at the public bathrooms at his park. He doesn’t realize he’s gripping the sink so hard that his knuckles turn white, and a long, shaky breath escapes him.

It was going to be okay, he reminds himself. The conversation that he had yesterday with Patton and Logan went…well, better than he thought. Logan, ever the problem solver, offered solutions to his situation, whereas Pat…

Well, Patton had immediately offered him a place to stay with all of them. The three were renting a house, and they somehow had an extra bedroom. It was smaller compared to the rest of the rooms, he was told, but…for now, it would be enough. Just the thought of a room and a bed to sleep in was good enough for him.

He smiles into the reflection of himself in the mirror. Before, he was a sad, skinny teen. Well, he still was, but now he wasn’t as skinny or as sad. It was a small difference, but it made a difference. That’s what mattered to Virgil.

Time passes slowly as he lays in bed, idly watching the TV and the window. Sunlight brings a warm glow to the room, and his eyelids grow heavy as he listens to a news anchor drone on about whatever is going on.

“Hey kiddo, time to get up!” Patton gently shakes his shoulder and for the second time that day he wakes up. Virgil smiles as he’s greeted with his smiling face. “C’mon, Logan and Roman are waiting downstairs.”

Patton helps him out of his bed, and out of his hospital gown. It takes a while, since he has to be mindful of his ribs, but he changes into the clothes that were brought to him. A pair of regular jeans, a t-shirt, some socks and a pair of converses. But what catches his eye is the glimpse of purple and black fabric hidden behind Patton’s back.

Patton’s eyes sparkle when he realizes that Virgil is looking, and he looks away, a hand going up to his neck. “So, uh…what do you have there Pat?”

He shrugs his shoulders up and down, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he smiles. “Just a little surprise Logan made! Well, Roman designed it, I picked out the, uh, materials, and Logan made it! He really is such a,”

“Don’t-”

Patton sticks his has hand out, grabbing Virgil and leading him away from the hospital room. “A handy guy!”

Virgil hides his smile with a groan, but lets out a small laugh. He doesn’t dare try to peek behind Patton, although it would easy for him to. They eventually get down to the parking garage, and he can’t stop ignoring the way his heart pounds with happiness. Leaving the hospital feels like leaving the past behind.

Maybe he can finally be a better person.

A grin breaks out onto his face as they turn a corner to see Roman and Logan. Logan is reading a book, but from the way he looks around quickly Virgil can tell he wasn’t really reading it. Roman, ever the dramatic, lets out a cry and runs at him.

Within seconds, he’s engulfed by Roman, who’s squeezing him and burying his head into his chest. “Don’t do that, Jay-Dee-lightful,” He mutters. Virgil catches the glints of tears that run down his face, but…he’s more so confused.

He returns the hug, getting squeezed even more. “…who did you call me?”

“I waste my best material on you,” Roman groans into his shirt, and he laughs. However…

“Ow, ribs, RIBS Roman, please-”

Virgil is released from his grasps, only for Patton to come up behind him and hug him. Roman beams and drags Logan into the embrace as well, and…Virgil is surrounded by people who love him. Who were worried about him and want him to be happy.

He sniffs as a few tears fall down his face, while Logan clears his throat. “It…It is good to see out of that horrible hospital gown. I don’t see how staying in one for a week without showering is hygenic, much less sanitary-”

Patton steps away, huffing. “Oh, don’t be like that kiddo! Just admit that you’re glad Verge here is safe!”

Logan fiddles with his glasses. “Yes, I am, well, I am glad you are safe, Virgil.”

“Now we can work Cinderella here to ashes!” Roman jokes as they all step away. Virgil lets out a laugh, snorting slightly. Patton throws his hands up and finger guns at Roman, who does the same thing back. But Logan just rolls his eyes and groans.

He sees a flash of yellow out of the side of his vision, and he glances there. His blood runs cold and all sounds of the others fade away. Virgil freezes, unable to move or to speak at all. His mind races as he tries to think up of ways that Deceit, that his father that he fucking disowned, found him.

Again.

Mr. D walks, or rather, glides forward to the group. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant sight?” He gives the others a glance over. “However, as much as I find this sickeningly sweet, I do believe that my son needs to come home.”

Needs to? Is he joking? Virgil feels a mixture of panic and anger well up in his chest, and he clenches his fists.

Logan frowns, facing Mr. D. “That’s odd, considering that Virgil does work with us and has agreed to be our roommate. I believe that due to the fact that he’s over eighteen and is now a legal adult, he does not have to return home unless he wishes to.” There’s a hint of smugness in his face, and Virgil almost smirks.

“Well,” Mr. D faces Logan, raising an eyebrow and seeing unphased. “I don’t care, really. He is my son, worthless and stupid as he is, and I would rather have him home, safe and sound. Really, I don’t see how Virgil appeals to you three. He doesn’t have any skills to benefit to the bakery, and really, it’s just a matter of time before he’s fired-”

“I beg your pardon,” Logan’s voice cuts him off harshly, charged with anger. “I don’t think you have any idea how much of a help your quote unquote son has been. He allows us to make a profit due to his help around the bakery, and he’s quite an intelligent person! Not like you would know what that’s like, seeing as how he has scars all over his body. You don’t know him at all, whereas all of us have gotten to know that he is, in fact, a wonderful person to be around. Unlike you, because you’re a horrible person with a disregard for basic common decency. Now, move.” Logan crosses his arms at the end of his rant, staring down Deceit.

Virgil gasps. This is the most emotional he’s ever seen him, and from the way the others are silent, this is the most emotional Logan has ever been. Ever. But he stood up for him. He…he didn’t expect that. A part of him had thought that…Logan would just throw him away once he stopped being useful.

The man frowns, as if this was all a minor inconvenience that would be resolved later. “You say that now, but-”

“There are no buts. I will not listen to someone who has given their blood cigarette scars, mental scars, and every other kind of scar there is. Now kindly, get out of the way so that all of us can go home,” Logan seethes, getting into his personal space.

Deceit narrows his eyes, glaring at the teen. “Don’t,” He growls, “You dare ever not listen to me.” He pushes Logan to the side.

Patton loses it.

He runs forward, quickly delivering a blow to the mans nether regions. Virgil’s eyes widden in surprise as Deceit grabs his abdomen, groaning out in pain. Patton stands up straight, drawing his elbow back. He clenches his fists, and Patton’s fist connects with Deceit’s face, which was level with him.

There’s the sickening sound of bone hitting bone, and quickly, Virgil’s father and abuser is on the ground. He gasps once he realizes there’s blood dripping down his nose. “I…I…”

“Don’t you dare,” Patton growls, towering over the man on the floor. “Ever. Touch one of my friends again. Do you understand? If I even see you near my bakery or Joan’s cafe or anywhere near one of them, I will fight you.”

Deceit nods, and they walk away. Virgil stares straight ahead, feeling the single eye of his father on his back. But he doesn’t look at him. He barely breathes until they get into the car, and that’s when the reality of the situation hits him.

Virgil sucks in a breath, rapidly breathing. Roman quickly grabs his hand, talking in a soothing voice. He promises that he won’t ever have to go back. He will never have to even look or talk to his father again.

His breathing calms, and he gives Roman a nod of thanks.

Virgil is safe.

 

* * *

 

They don’t go to the bakery. Or the park. In fact, they travel a full 20 minutes before arriving to a suburban neighborhood. Patton parks the car in a front of a neatly placed house. It stands out with a nice pale blue color, and a white trim. The porch looks nice and inviting, and for a second Virgil can imagine Roman painting on a nice summer day, with Logan reading a book on the grass while Patton comes out with a tray of lemonade.

As he steps out, however, a pang of worry hits his chest. Would he fit in here? Would he ever belong in a place like this? In a place with…

He glances over to see Logan and Roman arguing, probably over Disney like they were in the car. Patton is laughing and is trying to diffuse the situation, but adds in his own two cents. Virgil stands awkwardly by the car, a half smile on his face. These three dorks were stuck with him, and they…well, they were his family.

As he walks through, he gets a sense of how lived in the house is. There’s a pile of shoes by the door (which are probably Roman’s) with two pairs set exactly next to each other, while only one pair sits somewhat tossed aside.

Patton slides up to him, bouncing slightly. “So,” He says gently to him as Virgil stares at the shoes. “What do you think kiddo?” He nearly recoils when the tall teen stares back at him with tears in his eyes, which he brushes away upon seeing his reaction.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It…it just kinda hit me, is all,” He shrugs and smiles, and bends down to hug the smaller one. “Thank you,” He whispers, and holds him tightly. Patton smiles and rubs his back gently.

“Anytime!” He chirps, pulling Virgil into the dining room. “But firsts thing is first! Getting everyone fed! I’ll just whip up something really quickly-”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT LISTENING TO HAMILTON-”

“JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE, MICROSOFT TURD.”

Virgil lets out a small giggle at the yelling from the living room. “So…what is that about?” He asks while he watches Patton cook.

“Oh, Roman thinks Logan would like this musical, but Logan is sick and tired of listening to nothing but musicals, and they’ve been in a huge fight about it sin-” Pat could barely get through the last word as there was a loud thump, and then the sounds of Roman and Logan, probably wrestling over something.

Virgil tries to resist the urge to get up and record the whole thing, but he stays put. But when his eyes meet Patton’s, he busts out laughing. Pat joins in once he hears one of them (probably Logan) give up, with a whine of annoyance.

“Ow, oh my god,” He sucks in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from laughing any further. “My ribs don’t like that.”

“They won’t like it for a while, Verge. I’ll give you a hot press before you sleep tonight, okay?” Patton hums as he works around the kitchen, and for a moment, a happy calm washes over the house.

Virgil relishes in it, feeling his anxiety slowly go away like a tide. There’s the muted hums of some intense cello’s, and Patton’s humming, combined with the smells of actual cooking…He lets out a breath. Maybe it’s one that’s he’s been holding in for his whole life. It feels like it, and the stress of not being homeless fades away.

The sound of the front door opening makes him perk up, almost tilting his head to the side. The sounds of the footsteps are unrecognizable to him, and he feels his heart beat pick up, and he turns around slowly.

“Home!” The stranger calls out as he walks into the hallway. He peaks into the living room, laughing. “Roman, please get off of Logan.”

“But Thomaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssssssssss-” Roman whines before an inexplicable “Oof!” is heard.

“Yes, yes. Logan won’t listen to the Hamilton soundtrack, but you don’t know how to work the remote, so-”

“I am finally freed from this barbarians primitive methods of restraint!” Logan huffs, catching sight of Virgil.

“Ah, Dad, this is-” Logan starts, one hand out to gesture towards him when the man-Thomas (Logan’s Dad?)-turns around and smiles brightly at him.

“You must be Virgil! Man, it’s great to finally meet you! Patton was right, you are a lean bean.” Thomas laughs as he walks over, and…

Virgil examines his and Logan’s face. The same facial and body shapes…skintones, even. “So…you’re Logan’s dad?” He squeaks out, coughing to try and cover it up. He gets a laugh in response.

“Who’dya think gave these three a loan to start up their bakery?” Thomas shakes his head. “I figured, hey, since I own a business, may as well let my kid own one of his. Ya know? Independence.”

Virgil gulps and nods, although his throat is dry. “Y-yeah…”

Thomas smiles at him, before disappearing and going up the stairs. “I can’t stay for long boys, I just wanted to stop by!” He calls down, and Patton pouts, running to the stairs.

“At least stay for dinner! I already have it going and everything!” He calls up, a hopeful tone in his voice. Virgil…does a double take. A part of him didn’t think about anyone’s parents, but seeing Thomas interact with his friends…it was weird, for sure.

But oddly comforting.

Logan walks, letting out a sigh. He gently places a hand on his shoulder, before sitting down next to him. “I’m sorry for the sudden appearance of my dad. I didn’t think he would be home so soon.”

“It’s fine, really. He…seems nice,” He adds on softly, looking at his hands.

Logan clears his throat. “I’m…sorry if seeing him made you uncomfortable. I promise, he’s only here-”

“No no no, it’s fine, I just…” Virgil shrugs. He can’t finish the thought. Seeing Logan’s dad, Thomas, made him…feel weird. He felt like he should be jealous, or be filled with anger, but instead he just feels…

Virgil feels sad.

Seeing Thomas interact with all of them made him wonder what he had missed out with his childhood. The scars on his arms serve as a permanent reminder of everything his childhood shouldn’t be. The yelling, the hitting, the abuse-it was a lot, still, for him to process. There wasn’t a reason for him to be angry, just sad.

He blinks away the tears before Patton or anyone else can see, and he takes in a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot for one day.”

Logan nods. “While the human brain can process many things, accepting everything that has happened to you in the past is a difficult process. One of the many symptoms of PTSD that has been reported is repressed memories. It often happens when during someone’s childhood their day to day life is unstable and nearly everything changes. During that time period-”

“Listening to one of Logan’s rambles, Virgil? It’s okay if you end up falling asleep, we all do at some point.” Roman interrupts, sliding in the chair opposite of him. Logan rolls his eyes, but Virgil has to hold back a smile.

“I don’t know which is worse,” He relaxes into his chair, stretching. “Your monologues or Logan’s lectures.”

He gets a “HEY!” from both of them, in protest. It also makes things worse when Roman starts reciting a monologue from…something, in tandem with Logan going on about something or other. After a few seconds, Virgil’s shoulders start to shake with laughter when Roman gets up and starts to act whatever it is he’s reciting.

Patton overhears what’s going on, and gosh darnit, no monologues or lectures at the table! He stomps over, placing a dish down. “Roman! Logan! You both know the rules-”

At the sound of their names, both teens stop. Roman moves quickly to sit back into his seat, and it’s silent once more.

Except for Virgil laughing. Patton’s lip curl up into a smile. “It was Logan’s idea to install rules-”

“I was tired,” He butts in, “Of finding everything BUT plates of food here during dinner, breakfast, or lunch, or any other day. I did not think-”

“That Patton would jump in? C’mon, Logan! He’s the most fatherly figure in this house!” Roman gestures grandly to him, barely missing the plate of food that’s piled up on it. Patton moves around the table, setting plates of food in front of everyone.

“Kiddo! Are you joining us?” Patton calls up, receiving a no from Thomas. There’s the sound of someone turning on a shower, and they finally start eating when Patton sits down.

It’s silent, and the minute Virgil takes a bite he feels like he’s in heaven. It’s not premade food that’s incredibly unhealthy, and he feels like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Ever. He holds himself back from shoveling the whole plate into his mouth at once out of politeness, but he quickly glances around to see that…well, everyone else is hungry as well.

They quickly finish eating, and for the first time in a while, Virgil feels full. He leans back in his chair before Patton pulls him up. He looks at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well, I gotta show you around kiddo!”

He gets up slowly, but Patton shows him the roomy house. The kitchen and dining room were just one big area, with a table thrown in a middle. The kitchen had jars of various liquids and herbs, and even some drying and hanging up on the cupboards. Then there was the living room, which…was a mess. There was a small fold out table with chairs, piled high with various card games. What appeared to be various painting projects were stuck up in the corner, with an easel holding up too many canvases.

But really, there were too many bookshelves. There was a metal one that was meant to be in a garage rather than a living room holding up a hefty looking series of books that Virgil guessed were encyclopedias, and one that looked like it was antique, weathered with use with groups of books hapharzardly thrown on it. He glances at the titles, finding more fiction on this particular shelf. Then there was just a plain white one with stickers thrown on it, the kind that someone would get at a doctors. This one had books about cooking and gardening, and homemade remedies.

“Everyone likes reading,” Logan comes in, seemingly reading his thoughts. “However, the room is quite crowded with all of our books in one place. And someone’s particular hobbies,” He glances at Roman, who’s taken control of the giant TV that takes up half the wall.

After navigating around the couches, he finds the extra bathroom, and then they go upstairs. It’s small, yet cozy. “Logan’s room,” Patton points to a door on his left that has a simple blue sign with ‘Logan’ written on it in neat, blocky, lettering. “Roman’s room,” His door has the weird theater masks on the corners, red like curtains, and ‘Roman’ written in a fancy script. They walk down the hallway a bit before coming upon an empty door and Patton’s room. His sign is written in a loopy, almost childish, writing with hearts scribbled all over it.

Virgil stops in front of the door without a sign. “It’s smaller than the others, but…” Patton opens the room. His breath catches in his throat as he walks in.

It was tiny, but it wasn’t a closet either. There was a small section that would be perfect for a bed, with the window opposite it. He could probably set up a small table with a comfortable chair, and write, and read, and just…

A small, nondescript white plastic bag sits on a mattress in the little nook. Something black and purple pokes out of it, and Patton bounces on his feet. “Go on, take a look! Roman took one look at your old hoodie and threw it away because it was dirty and kinda gross and also doesn’t fit you that well so we made a new one.”

He walks forward, picking up the bag. It reveals a large hoodie, with a soft inside. He runs his hand through it before putting it on. It fits perfectly, hanging on his skinny frame. Virgil raises his arms and looks at the patches of purple plaid.

“Virgil?” Patton gently touches his arm and he sniffs, wiping away a few tears that had escaped from his eyes.

“It’s perfect,” He whispers as Patton sweeps him into a hug. He has to lean down in order to let him hold him, but he smiles into the hug and lets himself cry.

Virgil feels Patton let out a deep breath. “Welcome to the family, Virgil.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes added 12/26/2018 
> 
> Alright so... I'm going to be honest, I was not expecting this to go so well on AO3. It did okay on Tumblr, which is where I guess the lot of you know me, but all of the support I've gotten so far has honestly only made me cry. I'm sorry for not responding to comments, I got very very very emotional about the love this fic has gotten. I'm still a little shocked that people love it so much, and I'm glad everyone that's read it has enjoyed it so far. 
> 
> TL;DR, Fynn is sappy piece of shit and wanted to say thanks for the love and support


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